


Voices

by dottyoz



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottyoz/pseuds/dottyoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he hears it, he thinks it's just background noise from the tavern they've just left behind them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices

The first time he hears it, he thinks it’s just background noise from the tavern they’ve just left behind them.

The second time he hears it, he thinks it’s the horses settling down for the night where they’ve been forced to make camp. He can’t blame them for the noise – it’s cold and harsh, even though they sought the best shelter they could.

The third time he hears it, he wonders why nobody else is reacting to it. He asks his comrades but they shrug off his questions and he convinces himself he’s exhausted from their latest mission.

But the fourth time he hears it, he can’t deny it any longer. It’s definitely a voice and it’s definitely calling to him. The monastery is in sleep, his brothers-in-arms are elsewhere and the monks who are still awake are, if not quite a silent order, a very quiet group of devotees.

He closes his eyes and wills the voice to speak again. He can’t distinguish the words, he’s not even sure of the language it’s speaking but now he’s realised it’s talking to him and no one else, he needs to hear it again. 

He leans back against the stone wall of the refectory, relishing its coolness against the summer’s heat. The day has been long and they are, for now, safe in the shelter of God’s house. He feels more at home here than he has for a long, long time. He knows it’s all relative, that home is not a physical place for him anymore. It’s the companionship and love of his comrades, the men for whom he would lay down his life without question and who would do the same for him. But in this place he can allow himself the fantasy of a different life as the calm stillness sweeps over him like a mother covering an infant with a blanket.

He drifts, to the brink of sleep, touching a dream always just out of reach. The world, already quiet and peaceful, takes on a new timbre for him and in his solitude he allows himself the indulgence of meditation.

Which is when he hears the voice again. He still can’t make out the words, but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter. He understands the meaning and takes comfort in the resonance of the sound, reverberating around his very soul. He knows his time is nearly up, that he needs to make preparations for the next life. 

But he’s not scared. Not anymore. Because the voice will be waiting for him and he welcomes it with peaceful acceptance.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a definite character in my head but stories are about the reader as well as the writer. You may be thinking of a different musketeer and I don't want to limit your imagination :)


End file.
